CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

HEAVEN’S NET IS WIDE

Even before Cat and Hanshiro, Kasane and Traveler, reached Kusatsu they knew Kyto wasn’t far beyond. Buildings had shallower eaves and less steeply pitched roofs. Porters and kago bearers were more polite and better dressed. People spoke in the more cultured accents of the west, and westbound travelers had a gay air of anticipation about them.

Kasane had left her rented finery behind. She was again dressed as a samurai’s box bearer. Her lover walked with her behind Cat and Hanshiro and helped her with the load.

Dressing in men’s clothing was all the rage with the women of Edo, and Traveler thought Kasane’s costume stylish and brash and irresistibly appealing. She wore her stiff new cedar-colored robe tucked up in back, showing tight trousers underneath. Her narrow sash was tied low on her hips, and the thick tassel of her hair stood out jauntily from the crown of her head.

Traveler himself still wore the clothes he had bought as a disguise. He had sewed Kasane’s letters into the lining of the jacket so that they might warm his body as well as his spirit.

As Kasane invented her work of fiction, she had to speak loudly enough for Cat to hear, so she would know the details should they come up later. But whenever other travelers passed she fell silent, as though her story were a shameful family secret. Her tale had entertained Cat and Hanshiro and fascinated Traveler all the way from Minakuchi to Kusatsu.

Kasane had no intention of trusting her lover with a true account of her mistress’s quest. Lovers were the pleasantest of indulgences, but they could hardly expect the loyalty one owed one’s lord or lady. Besides, the real story of how she and Lady Asano came to be companions included Kasane’s being kidnapped and pandered as a harlot. It involved forgery, theft, murder, and the fact that Kasane was betrothed to a man from Traveler’s own village.

Cat was amused and impressed with Kasane’s creativity. Her tale went back several generations and meandered down numerous side paths. She suspected that Kasane had recycled the histories of the more prominent families of her village. She also had thrown in elements from the kabuki plays of Shichisaburo’s troupe.

Traveler listened with a dazed expression. The occasional twitch of a smile at the corners of his mouth had nothing to do with the story he was hearing. He was a sensible lad, but the calm waters of his intellect had been considerably muddied by the erotic adventures of the previous night. Kasane could have told him anything, and he would have believed it.

Kasane had finally arrived at the more immediate past. “As you know, for one general to succeed, the bones of ten thousand men must lie bleaching under heaven. And so the wars and intrigues of long ago reduced our family to poverty.” Kasane’s sigh was so poignant, Cat was impressed. Besides combat and acting, poetry and love, what other talents did she harbor?

“Our father was a poor but honest rnin who fished to eke out the meager harvest from his stony fields.” Kasane thought of her parents, caught in the net of poverty. She thought of them working in their rock-strewn field by day, then fishing all night. The tear that slid over her lower eyelid and down her cheek was not feigned. “His boyhood friend, who was also a samurai and the son of the magistrate, developed a passion for our mother.”

At a gesture from Hanshiro, Kasane stopped to buy some of Kusatsu’s famous rice cakes. She shared them with her companions, then went on with her story.

“One evening, while Father was away, his friend drank too much. He tried to seduce Mother as she walked home from the well. She struggled and protested, but besotted with wine and passion, he forced himself on her.”

“The beast!” Since Traveler still only knew Kasane by her alias, Hachibei, he kept his own name to himself and listened. He didn’t mention that the bride his parents had chosen for him was from his beloved’s own village. The coincidence was unsettling, and Traveler didn’t know how to proceed.

“She hid her shame from us, but when Father came home he found her torn and muddy clothes. Sobbing, she confessed. Father went looking for his friend. They quarreled, and the man Father loved as a brother killed him, then fled. Mother shaved her head; but before she withdrew into a life of contemplation, younger brother and I made her a most solemn vow. We are pledged to find the villain and take revenge.”

“Is that so?” Traveler was intrigued and perplexed. The marriage broker had said nothing of rape and murder in his fiancée’s village. Maybe she had feared it would interfere with negotiations and she wouldn’t be able to collect her fee.

“I must warn you.” Kasane lowered her voice. “The murderer’s father is influential. He has hired men to stop us, which is why we travel in disguise. Our situation is as uncertain as a candle’s light before the wind. Hanshiro-san took pity on us and agreed to help. But he is trained in the warrior’s arts. You would be held blameless if you decided to continue your pious journey to the shrine of the Sun Goddess.”

“The flow of water and the destiny of human beings are uncertain,” Traveler said. “No matter if it rains fire or spears, I’m coming with you.”

Kasane bowed, making of it a remarkably subtle gesture of gratitude, pleasure, and promise. Somewhere along the road, she had mastered more wiles than the ones Cat had taught her. Her grace entranced Traveler. The secret he harbored stirred restlessly in him, like a meal of bad fish. As he walked he tried to think of words to explain his situation to her.

After Kusatsu the Tkaid climbed into the mountains again. Even though it was midday and the sun was shining, the four passed into the stillness of trees, into the sharply fragrant twilight trapped beneath the dense canopy of cryptomeria and pine.

Kasane slowed her pace so she and Traveler could walk farther behind and not be overheard. Their voices formed a murmuring background for Cat’s and Hanshiro’s silence.

Oishi had tried to teach Cat to live with all her strength of will in the present moment. So she tried not to think of the past, not even of the night she had just spent with Hanshiro. She tried not to worry about the future and what she would accomplish in Kyto.

Kasane’s anguished wail startled her from the ringing stillness of no-thought. She turned and saw abject despair in Kasane’s eyes. Traveler looked thoroughly miserable.

“What is it, elder sister?”

“The diviner was right,” Kasane said. “He’s promised to another.”

Hanshiro decided this was a good time to stop for tea and a very small helping of truth. He steered them all to a bench outside an open-air tea stall. Arms akimbo, he stood facing Kasane and her lover, who sat on the edge of the bench, their legs dangling.

“Remember that ‘sleeve touches sleeve because it is predestined,’” Hanshiro said. “The two of you are together because you’re fated to be.” He rubbed his chin as he considered the improbabilities of their situation. He didn’t believe in coincidence. He turned to Traveler. “What’s your name, and to whom are you promised?”

“Shintar.” Shintar was embarrassed to discover that he couldn’t remember his future wife’s name. “I’m supposed to wed the daughter of Sabur of Pine village before the spring planting.”

Kasane turned so pale, Cat feared she would faint. She put a hand on Kasane’s arm to steady her.

“I’m the daughter of Sabur,” Kasane said. “My name is Kasane. I’m betrothed to Shintar of Shadow Pond.”

Shintar’s mouth dropped open, and his face turned bright red. “I’m such a fool.” He bowed into his fists and knocked his forehead against them. “My callous disregard for your tragic situation is unforgivable. You and your brother must think me a heartless wretch.”

“There’s no reason for you to be anxious about it.” Cat answered for Kasane, who sat speechless as joy and alarm scuffled in her eyes. “You didn’t know our story.”

A waitress arrived with tea, and everyone drank in silence. Hanshiro and Cat were trying to calculate just how much this new turn of events would complicate their quest. Kasane was reviewing the complexity of lies she had just told to see if Shintar’s revelation would affect it. Shintar simply was stunned by the idea that he was in love with the woman he was to marry.

Cat drank her tea quickly and stood. In spite of all the admonishments of her mother, her father, her nurse, and Oishi, impatience was still her biggest fault.

“Shall we go?” She shouldered her sheathed naginata and waited while Kasane paid the bill. Then she set a fast pace into Otsu, the last post station before Kyto.

Otsu was a cheerful, bustling place. Its shops and inns clung so closely to the shore of Lake Biwa that the masts of the fishing smacks, the pleasure boats, and the ferries beached there seemed to sprout from thatched roofs. Caricatures of imps in priests’ robes grinned down from the shops’ curtains and banners.

The demon priest carried an umbrella on his back, a wooden staff in his right hand, and a temple subscription list in his left. A bowl-shaped bell dangled on his chest. The paintings were bold and primitive and droll, and Otsu was famous for them.

Kasane and Shintar stopped to buy food for the night while Hanshiro and Cat climbed the long flight of stone steps to Midera temple. Over the centuries the steps had settled until they tilted at different angles. The feet of countless worshipers had worn down broad concavities in them. Dark green moss grew where feet didn’t disturb it. The trees along the route had sent roots into the cracks and corners of the steps. The roots had grown gnarled and twisted until they seemed fused with the stone.

On a hill high above Lake Biwa, Cat and Hanshiro left their own calligraphy brushes in the earthenware container full of those left by worshipers. Now that the brushes had shared the secrets of their hearts, they could hardly be used for anything else. The priests would burn them along with the others, out of respect for the services they had performed.

The wind billowed Cat’s and Hanshiro’s jackets and hakama as they stood on a promontory overlooking the calm blue waters far below. The boats bobbing there looked like toys in a tub.

“Hard to imagine a storm.” Cat thought of the legend of the woman who had fallen in love with a monk. He had told her that if she rowed in a washtub across Lake Biwa seven nights in a row, he would give in to her desires.

Hanshiro knew what Cat was thinking. The woman in the old tale had almost succeeded. But on the seventh night a violent storm had risen suddenly and drowned her. People living around the lake claimed that on the anniversary of her death a storm always raged there. Hanshiro knew Cat feared she too might die before she achieved her goal.

“Heaven’s net is wide and coarse,” he said gently. “But it catches everything eventually. Kira will be punished.”

“I fear,” Cat said, “that I’m trying to catch the moon in the water.”